Leviathan
by Witch0fTime
Summary: Eridan is an outcast, a pariah, after being found on the beach. He bears the Mark and the Accent of the Sea, but remembers nothing that happened before he was found. But what lies in wait for him if he sails out to search for his past?
1. A Story to be Told

**A/N: This is based on a song by The Cog is Dead called 'The Depths Below'. I do not own the lyrics from this song used in the dialogue.**

Eridan sighed in uncontained relief as the sound of the enormous clock in the center of town striking five o' clock reached his ears through the methodic clicking and scream of released steam all around him. "Alright boys, pack out!" The voice of the Master Cogsmith, just barely audible, gruff and unpolished. Still, Eridan was not one to complain about the smoothness of the voice telling him he was free for the night. As he passed through the mudroom, he discarded his uniform's hat and retrieved his worn and tattered scarf from the unkempt pile of the other boys' meager possessions. Then, before any of the other boys could reach the room, he looked around quickly and made a wild dash for the door, exiting and running for the shelter of home.

When he reached the small house at the end of the street, Eridan wasted no time at all in sliding the various gears and pistons into place to unlock the door. Taking another look around the block, he skulked into the darkness of refuge, the heavy door shifting into place behind him and the gears shifting back out of order into their locked state. Inside, the heavily tinted windows let in only a little light, allowing Eridan neither to see nor be seen by the other townsfolk. He liked it that way; it saved him just that much more trouble.

Eridan quickly changed out of the atrocious grey and copper fatigues required at his factory and into his prefered clothes. They were not as simple as one might expect out of a small boy living alone in such a hovel, just another reason that he was hated. Still, he insisted on wearing the white dress shirt and black vest fastened with copper buttons, black dress pants, and tall black boots that many of the children and all of the adults would have killed to own had they not been so terrified of him. Over all of this he wore a faded purple overcoat that still smelled faintly of salt even from all those years ago. Eridan finished the look with a top hat of the same faded purple and a black cane topped with a silver ornamental ship. It was that ship that was the reason for the terror in the eyes, the hatred. It was that ship that caused them to confine him to the removed hovel he now lived in, where they would not have to see him any more than necessary. And it was that ship that he clung to most dearly out of all of his possessions.

A knock on one of the windows snapped him out of his reverie. Eridan's eyes widened with fear, and he curled up in the farthest possible corner, trying desperately not to cry as the urchins on the street taunted him again.

"Hey _Eridan_!"

"Guess what we heard!"

"Another pirate ship was taken down by Master-Captain Richardson again!"

"Think it was yours, ya rotten pirate?"

"Pirate, pirate, Eridan's a _pirate_!"

"It _will_ be your ship someday, ya know. Someday they're gonna take down a ship and find out the captain looks just like you! Because he's your _dad_. Won't that be the day!"

Eridan couldn't make his voice loud enough to hear. "Go aw-way," he wanted to tell them. "Leawe me alone." But he knew they wouldn't. He knew from horrible, painful experience.

"Pirate, pirate, Eridan's a _pirate_! Bloody, rotten _pirate_! Thieving, scheming _pirate_! Ought to be hung, a _pirate_! Watch his blood run, a_ pirate_!" they screamed in their horrible sing-song. Eridan could do nothing but cry silently, the fabric covering his knees soaking up his futile tears as the children continued their mad song, laughing and banging on the windows. Testing to see if any of them were loose, to see if they could get in. At last their obscene song ended and they ran through the streets once more, shrieking and laughing.

Eridan waited until the last of their wild howls had died before slowly standing. As he did, he clutched the silver ship atop his cane to his heart. The deep mechanical whirring of the clock striking six o'clock in town rumbled softly through his very being. Eridan wiped his tears away with a stark determination, but then paused, biting his lip indecisively. _Maybe I shouldn't go tonight...what if they catch me?_

_Nonsense. You've gone countless times before and never been caught. Why should tonight be any different?_ Carefully he pressed one ear to the door, listening for anyone. There was nothing. He deftly constructed the unlocking mechanism on this side of the door and waited as the powerful pulley system shifted the door out of his way. Then, making sure his outfit was in perfect order, he closed the door behind him and disappeared into the alley, snaking his way to the town square.

As he neared it, the quiet hubbub of awed and nervous townsfolk reached his ears. Eridan just barely allowed himself to enter the half-lit area at the end of the alley, giving himself exactly the angle needed to see the old, weathered sea captain around which the people had congregated. He sat on a small dais, and his eyes were shut not as if he was sleeping, but as if everything he had ever lived for and every dream he had ever had had vanished into the ocean mist, never to be seen again. His whole posture was that of a broken, defeated man. Eridan found him absolutely fascinating.

Some unseen force must have instilled movement into the motionless man, for his eyes opened slowly. His stormy grey eyes looked haunted, and his face took on its normal look of slight residual terror from the thousands of voyages he had experienced. As soon as he sat up, the people hushed, leaning in with baited breath to hear tonight's tale.

The man's head bowed in resignation. He did not pride himself on his tales, nor the audiences that he accumulated, but his stories had a life of their own. They were the kind of tale that did not sit quietly in the slowly rotting mind of an old timer. He began to speak, his deep salt-tempered voice sending shivers through Eridan.

"There is an ancient legend. An oceanic tale, if you will." He coughed, grimacing. "It speaks of an underwater monster, neither fish nor whale, creature nor machine. Many call it myth," he paused to take a deep breath, his chest visibly inflating as his shoulders sagged, "but I assure you that it is real. It waits, lurking in the darkness for prey, for a ship to sail overhead. And you won't know what hit you 'til you hear your crewmen scream." His body was wracked with a cough once more. The crowd held its breath as they waited for him to continue. "Usually, it sleeps peacefully beneath the ocean. But when there's a storm brewing..." he trailed off, his eyes widening as he relived the horror.

"When the waves come rolling in and lightning fills the sky, all the sailors know that the Leviathan is nigh." He swept a terrified eye over the crowd. "If he grabs onto your boat, he'll never let you go! Soon you'll join the thousand ships he's sent to Davy Jones! To the depths below!" His breathing became more rapid as his panic spread. "Its tentacles...massive! And its teeth! Made of steel! Stronger than the best!" He leaned forward to stand, but before he could, whatever unseen magic that had breathed life into him left, and he collapsed backward into his chair once more, eyes closed, face lined with the horrors he had seen.

The people stared for a moment, hoping for more, then sighed in disappointment before shuffling back to their homes. Soon, the square was empty save for Eridan lurking in the dark and the old sea captain plagued by his nightmares. A sudden, wild idea seized upon Eridan, too tempting to resist. Casting his eyes around the square a final time to assure his solitude, he crept into the light and up to the dais. The old man did not move. Eridan stepped up onto the dais, and in a single, impossibly swift motion the old man's eyes had flicked open and he had caught hold of Eridan's shirt.

"You have the look of a Seagoer. Be ye a Seagoer?"

Eridan stammered out a response. "No...w-well, maybe...once...I was found...by the sea."

"A foundling Seagoer who bears the accent of the Sea? You must feel terribly alone. Out of place." The man looked him up and down, scrutinizing him.

Eridan's eyes widened in shock. "Yes! I feel like I'm in the w-wrong place. Like I don't belong here."

The captain's eyes glittered with insanity. "Yes, I feel it too. The sea calls to me, but I can't answer. I'm trapped here...trapped..." The fire in his eyes left, and he gazed down at the two stumps that had once been his legs. "The monster...it got my..." His eyes shut in pain.

Eridan swallowed as the hand clutching his shirt relaxed. "That's w-why I plan to go to sea. To search for w-where I came from. And for adwenture."

The man seemed to take on his former panic, tightening his grip on Eridan. "Ye can't! A body made of metal, with a living brain! It'll tear your ship apart!"

Eridan shook his head burying the terror that the man instilled in him. "You can't stop me. I'we made up my mind." He lifted his hands to disentangle himself from the old sailor's grip. The man's gaze fell on his cane, and he released Eridan with a gasp of recognition.

"You bear the Mark! The Mark of the Pirate Guild!" The man made a sign of warding in the air before him.

Eridan looked to the silver ship cresting his cane. His resolve hardened. "I don't care if I'm a pirate. I'm goin' out to sea, and nothin' you say can stop me."

The old man's face curved into a twisted smile. "If that be your aim, then heed me: stay always on your guard, or you may wind up lifeless when that monster hits you hard. He'll wrap himself around you...you'll wish that you weren't born! So if the beast attack you, don't say that you weren't warned!" The man was seized once more in a fit of coughing, and he leaned back into his seat and remained motionless.

Eridan clutched at his chest, gasping for breath. Swifter than humanly possible, he had disappeared into the dark safety of the alley and was furtively making his silent way back to the inner sanctum of his small hovel.


	2. Resignation

"I'm resignin'." Eridan's determined face shone defiantly up at Master Cogsmith Frederickson. The Cogsmith in turn gazed with a mixture of confusion, shock, and, hidden behind everything else, the constant terror that accompanied Eridan wherever he went. Eridan ignored it.

"Why wouldja wanta do som'thing like that?" the Cogsmith drawled.

"I'm just leawin'. I'm goin' aw-way from here, you understand? Far aw-way to somew-where w-where I feel like I belong."

"But don'tcha think that you belongs here?" Even as Frederickson said it, his eyes flashed with fear at Eridan's deadly, unwavering gaze.

"No, I don't." Eridan's voice was cold and level. Frederickson took a step back. "I don't feel like I belong here w-with the constant terror and hatred and mockin'. I don't feel like I belong here w-with the suspicious glances, the shelterin' of children, the w-whispers behind my back." With each word Eridan's voice grew louder and angrier. "I don't feel like I belong here, w-with the oppressive gears and cogs and buildings pressin' in all around me until I just w-want to get aw-way. I don't feel like I belong here, w-ith the smell of salt so far aw-way and the treacherously stable land beneath my feet tauntin' me, laughin' at me and tellin' me how-w I w-will newer get back to sea." Eridan was practically screaming at the Master Cogsmith, but Frederickson's eyes were no longer on Eridan's face. They stared with utter terror at the boy's hair and clothing. Eridan's hair was standing straight up, small sparks of electricity jumping from one strand to the next, and his clothing rustled as if it were blowing in the wind. Eridan did not notice a thing, only continuing his rampage.

"Don't you see?! I don't belong here! I newer belonged here! My callin' is to the sea! Can't you hear my Accent? Can't you see my pale skin and keen eyes? Have you not noticed my constant sense of direction?" The wind that had rustled his clothing grew stronger, so that Frederickson could feel it. It blew wildly past the papers in the room behind Eridan, causing them to fly quietly through the air. Frederickson opened his mouth to speak, but only a terrified whimper escaped.

"I see your terror, Mr. Frederickson! I know that you hate me, just like eweryone else in this cod-forsaken tow-wn!" The crackling of the lightening increased. "So I'm goin' aw-way! And there is_ nofin' you can do to stop me!_" Eridan's rage had reached its peak. As he finished the sentence, a single bolt of lightening struck down from the ceiling, hitting the desk that separated him from the Cogsmith. The desk instantly blackened, cracking through the center and falling to pieces before Frederickson's terrified eyes. He curled up in the back of the room, reduced to a madly sobbing heap. Too caught up in his own horror to notice the shock and fear the ran like wildfire through Eridan as he stood frozen for a few seconds. Then, as if snapping out of a reverie, Eridan stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him without him laying a finger on it.

He managed to make it all the way to his house before the shaking that had plagued him proved to be too much and he sank to the floor, sobbing. Only one thought could repeat itself over and over in his head.

_What kind of monster am I?_


	3. Usurpation

When the tears had ceased to flow, there was a strange calmness that settled on Eridan. It wasn't a pleasant calmness. It was the calm that settles before the storm, the calm that speaks of coming destruction, of inevitable mayhem, of death. Eridan rose, his vision slightly distorted by something deep inside him that had been sleeping but was now awake. It roared within him, seeking an outlet. Seeking the sea. He walked towards his door, picking up his treasured cane from the floor as he did so. His hands moved swiftly, mechanically unlocking the door and stepping outside. He could almost swear that as he did so, the air became colder.

Eridan's heart pounded as he stalked through the center of the street, no longer bothering to hide, towards the wharf on the far end of town. Everyone he met with on the street gaped at him in shock before hastily moving out of his way. He could feel their eyes burning into his back as he continued on.

_Stop looking at me._ He reached the docks. A smallish yacht towards the end of the line caught his eye. The dark lettering on the side read Scourge.

_Stop looking at me._ Without looking back, he began to untie the complicated knots that held the boat to shore with remarkable ease. His fingers seemed to already know that combination of movements that would render the knots ineffective.

_Stop looking at me._ The rocking of the boat was the most natural thing he had ever felt. It gave him a sense of balance, of belonging. But the feeling was spoiled by the eyes. The eyes of the hateful that scorched his turned back with unadulterated malice.

"Stop lookin' at me." He whispered. His voice was lost to the wind. The eyes paid him no mind.

He turned to face the crowd. They gazed up at him, their faces stony or scared or hateful as they always were for as long as he could remember. "Stop lookin' at me." The crowd gasped as one, murmuring softly.

"Stop lookin' at me!" Eridan's voice rose as it had in Master Cogsmith Frederickson's office. The sea beneath him roiled as his anger grew out of control.

"_Stop lookin' at me!_" he screamed, a scream that at once told of every stare he had avoided, every laughing child that had stood outside his house taunting him, every minute he had spent away from the sea that called to him so, every frustrating moment when he had gazed at the silver ship atop his cane and wished he could remember where it came from, who he was, why he was different. "_Stop lookin' at me! Stop lookin' at me! Stop lookin' at me!_"

The sea rose behind him in a great wave. "_Stop lookin' at me!_" His arms rose of their own volition, pointing at the leering faces of the townsfolk he so despised. "_Stop lookin' at me!_" The wave rolled underneath his ship harmlessly. "_Stop lookin' at me!_" With a horrifying crash and a mix of ten thousand screams, the wave descended upon the helpless people lining the docks. Their cries for help, mercy, and pity were quickly silenced as the water crushed them beneath its iron fist. Eridan looked on, strangely removed from the slaughter before him. A smile crept unnoticed into his lips, and he laughed. To all but himself, the laugh sounded broken, unnatural. As the wave retracted into the sea and people stood coughing, a streak of cold anger gripped Eridan. He raised his hand to the heavens. "_DON'T LOOK AT ME!_" he screamed nearly incoherently as he brought his hand down. Lightening streaked down from the sky, striking mercilessly at the drenched innocents on the shore. Eridan's eyes never broke from them as one by one they shrieked, writhed, and then fell to the ground unmoving.

Eridan turned once more to face outward, to sea. Without thinking about it, Eridan commanded the sea beneath him to carry his boat out to sea. It obediently complied, and it was only several miles out to sea that the full enormity of what he had done struck him.

_I killed all of those people. I killed all of those people, and I didn't even feel anything._ Eridan closed his eyes. The darkness inside of him shifted and laughed.

_"What is wrong with me?!"_ Eridan screamed to no one. For the first time, the darkness spoke. Its voice was scintillatingly sweet, threatening to consume him.

_You're a pirate, Eridan. That's what pirates do. They murder people. Don't you agree?_ It laughed wickedly, its silver tongue slicing through Eridan's resolve. A single tear rolled down Eridan's cheek as he lay on the deck of the boat, utterly horrified and sickly pleased with himself as he drifted farther and farther out into the deep blue of the sea that had so called to him.


	4. The Devil from the Sea

_Light descended from the sky in perfect rays as the sun set, catching the gentle waves as they lapped against the ship and transforming them into some otherworldly beauty that stretched on for miles in every direction. There was not a cloud in the sky and not a speck of land or another ship in sight, only the soothing stir of the water and the sweet smell of salt drifting benignly through the air. Eridan smiled from his seat in the crow's nest, closing his eyes and savoring the perfection. Below him on the deck the rest of the crew bustled manically back and forth, securing knots and checking course and scrubbing the hopelessly dirt-stained wood floor. Eridan was too high above them and the wind too loud in his ears to catch any of the words that must have been exchanged between the busy workers. He smiled to himself, thinking that it must be like the picture shows he had heard so much about through the grapevine of merchants and traders he met on the few occasions they ever docked._

_The sea to the west sparkled with red luminescence as the slowly setting sun lit up the sky in a brief but beautiful array of spectacular colors. Below, the worker-ants hurried about lighting the oil lamps suspended at odd intervals around the ship from any rope available. Every so often one of them would glare up accusingly at Eridan, envying his simple task. And simple it was. All that was required of Eridan was that he watch the horizon for approaching ships or land, and neither seemed imminent. So Eridan was free to daydream and watch the beauty of a sunset at sea. Any of the other sailors, naturally, would have quite unhesitatingly killed him for his position had he not been who he was. Eridan smirked again, cradling his precious black cane, topped with the Mark of the Pirate Lords, against his chest. So long as the ship's captain, to whom he was apprenticed, remained in command, not a hair on his head would be harmed._

_The wind died down for a moment, and the stiff, sea-salt encrusted tatters of his scarf flapped down against his back. He shifted slightly underneath the thick woolen blanket wrapped around him. The only downside of a beautiful sunset was the cold that inevitably set in after it. As if in answer to his thoughts, the breeze picked up again, this time carrying mist from below. He shivered as the tiny water droplets battered his face and hands._

_"BOOOOOY!" he heard from below. Looking down, Eridan saw the captain, hands cupped around his mouth and fire in his eyes. "GET DOW-WN HERE!"_

_Eridan smiled, shouting back with equal or greater volume. "I'M COMIN', YA OLD SEADOG!" Discarding the wool blanket was like falling into an icy ravine, and for a moment the biting cold got to his head. But the salt air quickly cured that, and Eridan didn't miss a step as he grasped the railing of the crow's nest with one hand and vaulted himself over, grabbing the precarious rope ladder with the other as he did so._

_The descent was smooth until Eridan reached the halfway point. He knew better than to look down at the deck below while climbing, although to be honest he doubted it would affect him much. But had he looked, he would have seen the drunk roughhousers at the far aft of the boat. He would have seen one pull a gun on the other. And he would have seen the gun fire, miss, and the bullet slide cleanly through the air towards the very thinnest part of the rope ladder at the top._

_Before the concerned shouts of the crew from below could reach his ears, Eridan was falling through space. The wind blew past him, and he knew that regardless of what he hit, either boat or sea, he was in for serious injury. He closed his eyes, praying that somehow his body would rotate just enough that he would hit the water, and at an angle that would not be fatal. Something moved deep within him, a gut-wrenching surge of power, but he hardly noticed it in comparison to the screaming of his senses, the hysterical pounding of the realization that he was going to die._

_He hit the water. Eridan waited for the pain to seize him, but was shocked to feel only a slight sting. His entry into the sea had been smooth. And yet he had not been anywhere near the proper angle for such an entry._

_The shock and cold of the water had temporarily frozen his muscles, and his lungs began to burn as the light of the oil lamps streaming in from above faded to a dull glow, and then to nothing. Panicked, Eridan thrashed his legs wildly, arms pulling him closer to the surface, but not close enough. A few precious air bubbles escaped from his lips. He cursed them silently and swam harder. His traitorous lung muscles worked against him, drawing in water through his nostrils._

_Just as spots began to dance in his vision, Eridan's head broke the surface. He gasped, retching as he bobbed in the water. A rope splashed into the water next to him, and he gratefully grabbed hold of it, swimming weakly back to the boat. A hand clasped his wrist and hauled him aboard. The world seemed to spin for a moment, and the concerned faces of his friends mixed with the disappointed faces of his enemies in a jumble as the world grew dark._

_"W-what does it mean?"_

_"...sign of evil..."_

_"...just a boy!"_

_"W-we can't let him..."_

_"...probably scared..."_

_"...came up to receiwe him, it did!"_

_"I tell you he's from the devil!"_

_From the devil._

_The devil._

_Eridan drifted into consciousness. His eyes slipped open of their own accord, but he couldn't comprehend or interpret what he was seeing. They rolled around in his sockets, the eyes of a dead man, blank and staring and lifeless. He heard a chorus of hushed voices to his left somewhere. A grinding, horrible pain rose in his chest, and he moaned. The voices ceased. A cold washcloth was placed cautiously on his brow. He squirmed, his face twisting in discomfort before he grew accustomed to the temperature. He drifted off again._

_"Shouldn't be this bad still."_

_"Has he mowed since..."_

_"...send him adrift!"_

_"He's a monster!"_

_A monster._

_Monster._

_A hand was placed on Eridan's shoulder. He stirred, frowning. His tired lips tried to form words, but only unintelligible gibberish escaped. "Don't w-work yeself too hard, boy," a soft voice at the edge of recognition murmured. Eridan shook his head, trying to make himself clearer, but he was so tired._

_"He'll be the death of us all, I say!"_

_"...not his fault..."_

_"...just an instinct!"_

_"...evil to the core."_

_"Send him back into the sea w-where he came from."_

_Into the sea._

_The sea._

_Eridan was shoved off of the cot, roughly awakening him. "Aren't so high and mighty now, are ya?" a sinister voice whispered. The fog in Eridan's mind refused to clear, and he stared stupidly ahead._

_"Thought you could keep your little gift a secret, did ya? W-well not lookin' so bright now-w, are ya?" Something rough and dark was forced over Eridan's head. He did nothing to resist it. "W-when w-were you plannin' on drow-wnin' us all, huh? W-when w-was you aimin' at murderin' us all and takin' all of the treasure to yourself? You rotten monster. But you w-won't be much trouble no more, w-will ya?" Eridan knew he was being dragged somewhere, but his normally perfect sense of direction was obscured by some evil cloud._

_There was a loud, wet noise and a soft, "Oh...", and then the man who had been moving him fell to the ground beside him. Another set of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. "Did he hurt ya?" Eridan made no response. "Guess it doesn't matter much. Ye ain't safe here, boy. I'm sendin' ye somew-where w-where nobody know-ws ye. Ye can find yer feet there. But mark me plain, boy. Don't ye come near the w-water anymore, hear? You got a talent, and most folk w-won't care to understand." Eridan was lowered into a small, wooden container. The sound of squealing ropes was accompanied by a series of abrupt falls. "Don't come back to sea. If ye do anythin' with your life, boy, let it be as landlocked as ye can."_

_Don't come back to sea._

_The devil._

_A monster._

_The sea._


	5. To The Depths Below

The sun shone directly on Eridan's face as it rose, awakening him from his sprawled sleep. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes. The waves lapped serenely at the edges of his stolen boat. Shaking his head to gain his bearings, his heart stopped cold as the light of the sunrise finally clicked in his brain. It was a deep, blood red. A ditty from his mysterious childhood spoke in a dreadful whisper.

_Red sun at night,_

_Sailor's delight._

_Red sun in the morning,_

_Sailor's warning._

"Don't be ridiculous," he muttered reassuringly to himself. "That's just a myth. Besides, ewen if it w-weren't, I can..." he trailed off, not wanting to put to words exactly what he could do.

In an attempt to distract himself, he scoured the horizon for any sign of land at all. Some hidden memory tickled the back of his mind, but he disregarded it. There was nothing to be seen for miles and miles. Not even a ship. "I'm alone..." _Just like always_, he finished silently.

Without thinking about it, he started the ship moving forward again, gently prodding the waves to bend to his will. He breathed in deeply, smelling the salt that had tantalized him for the past few months of his life that he could remember. A sudden pang from his stomach responded, and in that moment he realized the flaw with his plan. "I didn't bring any fuckin' w-water..."

Hoping he would find something, anything in the hold to slake his thirst, he opened the heavy wood door and descended. His eyes adjusted to the dark too slowly, and he gritted his teeth. "Calm dow-wn, Eridan." Gradually, the outline of barrels and cargo boxes became visible. Squinting, he made out the label on the side of one of the barrels. _Fine Ale, Courtesy of TinkerTown._ He grimaced. Something told him that, even in his darkened past, he had never drunk a drop of alcohol. Still, he was thirsty. There wasn't anything to do about that. He took a deep breath, cupped one hand under the tap, and lifted the lever to pour. The dark liquid gushed evilly out, seeming to radiate malevolence. He brought his hand to his lips and drank. The taste was harshly bitter, and he had to force himself to swallow, coughing and retching afterwards. Still, it was better than nothing. Steeling his resolve, he drank again.

Over an hour later, he stumbled back up the stairs to the deck. Something deep inside him was topsy-turvy, and roiling angrily. The boat had stopped moving, but he found it difficult to care or remember why it had been moving in the first place. The sun was higher in the sky, and dark, ominous thunderheads were gathering forebodingly at the horizon. He looked at them for a moment before a lazy sort of disorientation clouded his senses. He sat down in a daze. He looked around, trying to get rid of the light-headedness, but his vision seemed slower than normal, less sharp. _I think...I think I'm drunk..._

Grinning, he stood again. "Go fow-ward!" he crowed madly into the emptiness, pointing toward the dark clouds ahead. The boat started moving again. "Das better." He paused, surveying himself. "You rally are a sorry mess, huh? Mebye if I just go to sleep, it'll be gone w-when I wake upa 'gain." Then he lay back down on the deck, smiling into the warmth of the sun, and went to sleep.

Water sloshed uncompromisingly across his face, waking Eridan harshly what seemed like a moment later. Spluttering angrily, he stood up. A headache throbbed irately, reminding him of his earlier stupidity. He looked up. The sky was pitch dark, the clouds overtaking the innocent sun and drowning it in their clutches. Another wave washed over the side of the small boat, causing Eridan to fall over. A crack of lightening screamed across his water-logged vision followed by a deep boom of thunder. The boat rocked beneath him, a frightened child who has lost their mother in a crowd. As he stood again, a monstrous wave rose in front of the boat. As the boat tried to crest it, Eridan panicked, grasping for the railing. The boat's deck reached an angle too steep to allow him any purchase, and for an instant he was dangling precariously from the railing by one hand. Then the boat crashed down the other side of the wave and levelled once more.

Eridan leaned over the side of the boat, trying not to vomit. He saw something brushed against the bottom of the boat through the dark water just as it rose out of the water for a moment before crashing back into the tumultuous waves. His mind screamed at him. _What was that?! It was huge!_ Eridan's heart was seized with terror as the thought that he might die first occurred to him.

Lightening cracked across the sky again, threatening to shatter the fragile sky. A dark silhouette rose briefly from the water before slipping back into the water. Eridan wanted to scream, but no sound would come from his dysfunctional throat. A tall, slender, metallic tentacle clutched at the railing next to his hand, ripping a great chunk from it. The darkness beneath his ship moved once more as the main mast of his ship cracked in half. He saw another tentacle crash down on the deck from above, wreaking havoc on the carefully laid floorboards to his right.

The voice of the old sea-captain floated back to him across the water.

_There is an ancient legend. An oceanic tale, if you will. It speaks of an underwater monster, neither fish nor whale, creature nor machine. Many call it myth, but I assure you that it is real. It waits, lurking in the darkness for prey, for a ship to sail overhead. And you won't know what hit you 'til you hear your crewmen scream._

_When the waves come rolling in and lightning fills the sky, all the sailors know that the Leviathan is nigh. If he grabs onto your boat, he'll never let you go! Soon you'll join the thousand ships he's sent to Davy Jones! To the depths below!_

The scream that had been so unwilling before ripped out of Eridan's hoarse throat as a monstrous head lifted out of the water, two glowing eyes filled with malice staring deep into his soul. Its great mouth opened in a predatory snarl, revealing row upon row of sharp, metal teeth. Eridan's hand flew up of its own volition, and a small wave of water battered the side of the creature, knocking it momentarily into the water. A low rumble shook the ship, and when the creature resurfaced a cruel, demonic light emanated from its devil eyes. Eridan tried again to attack it, calling with everything he could for a bolt of lightening, but none came. His eyes widened. _The storm...it's too powerful._

Something cold and metal wrapped around his ankle, whipping him off of the boat and into the cold air. Another scream tore from his lips as he vainly tried to summon the water to catch him. A rush of familiarity pulsed through him. He had been in a nearly identical situation before, he was positive. He hit the water, the mind-numbingly painful impact paralyzing his muscles.

His dream from the night before flashed through him as he sank deeper into the sea. _A monster. From the devil. Don't come back to the sea._ He closed his eyes, tears slipping from them only to be mingled with the vast and pitiless ocean.

_I really am a monster. Unloved by everyone._

The pain that had debilitated him slowly seeped away, but he did nothing to attempt to swim to the surface. _There isn't anything for me in the world. Those at sea will think of me as a danger. A threat. A demon. Those on land will only see me as a pirate that wouldn't think twice about murder or theft. I have nothing._ He sank deeper.

His lungs screamed at him. A slithering feeling slid up his leg and around his chest. There was no longer any light available to him, but he knew that the monster had him. The grip of the beast tightened around him, squeezing what air he had left out in futile bubbles. He breathed in, laughing madly inside as his lungs filled with the sea that had held so many of his hopes. Something broke inside him, though from his own surrender or the crushing grip he wasn't sure.

He breathed in again, and felt himself slip down, down farther than anyone could help him from. Down into the uncompromising abyss.

Down to the depths below.


End file.
